


ancient history

by stellaar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Heavy Angst, Post-Break Up, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Reunions, atsumu and kuroo are here in for like 5 seconds, don't expect much y'all, reader is also not good at feelings, sakusa is not good at feelings, there is slight cheating? maybe??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaar/pseuds/stellaar
Summary: You leaned forward on the counter top, your elbows propped up as you rested your cheeks in your hands. You glanced out the sliding glass doors, which led to the balcony, overlooking the city of Tokyo. And you wondered exactly how you found yourself in this situation. You of all the people in Tokyo. You of all the people Sakusa knew in Tokyo. And you wondered how exactly Sakusa found himself in this situation.or you were really starting to hate the phrase "liquid courage"
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	ancient history

**Author's Note:**

> there were a lot of things that served as the inspo for this fic but primarily, mr lovermann by ricky montgomery, the slowed version ( [here](https://youtu.be/2hpFAIvVO_8) ) and figure it out by orla garland (the acoustic version) ( [here](https://youtu.be/yjYyPr7iaxk) )

It had been six months since the last time you had seen Sakusa Kiyoomi and you didn’t expect your first encounter with him since then to be hoisting a drunken Sakusa over your shoulder and helping him up the flights of stairs to your apartment. You had gotten a call late Friday night, or rather _very_ early Saturday morning, from Sakusa’s number but the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t his. It was the voice of a concerned patron at the bar Sakusa was at, already in an inebriated state. You hadn’t blocked him or deleted his contact but a long time ago, you deleted all your messages and removed him from his spot at the top of your favorites. You didn’t know that in his phone you still had a red heart at the end of your name. 

If you were being honest with yourself, this isn’t how you would have wanted to see Sakusa again after all this time, not after everything. And if you were being _completely_ honest with yourself, you would have preferred to never see Sakusa at all.

When you unlocked the door, entering the correct combo on the keypad, you brought him in and sat him down on the bench beside the door. You took off your own shoes before kneeling down before him and taking off his own. He sat, slumped against the wall. He was so out of it. You had never seen him like this before. He knew how to hold his liquor. Usually.

What you didn’t know yet was that his team had gone out for a celebratory drink to celebrate their victory in one of their recent tournaments and Sakusa had stayed behind when everyone else departed home. And what you also didn’t know was the moment he turned around to the stands after scoring match point, he didn’t see you and he felt his stomach drop. He wondered if you were watching on TV but he knew you weren’t. Your absence was overwhelming, enough to overshadow the adrenaline of winning, and you’ve plagued his mind since.

You placed his shoes and yours underneath the bench as he murmured something incomprehensible. Before taking off your black denim jacket and hanging it up in the coat closet, you pumped some hand sanitizer in your hand. If there was one thing you picked up from Sakusa, it was his stringent cleanliness. You peeled Sakusa’s jacket off of him and hung it beside yours. His face was red, not a light dusting across his face like yours from the crisp autumn air, but a deep splotchy red. He drank so much and for so long, not even his Histamine-2 blocker pills were effective any longer. 

“Come on.” You wrapped your hand around his wrist. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You whispered. 

With his eyes closed shut, he croaked out “y/n?” 

“It’s me.” You said, moving his hair to the side. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead. It was freezing outside and yet he was sweaty all over. “Let’s get you in the shower. You don’t want to wake up tomorrow with all this grime on you.”

And at your reassuring voice, groggily, he let you lead him to the bathroom inside your room. You sat him down on the toilet as you turned on the shower, adjusting the valves for the right temperature. You didn’t think you needed to tell him which was the shampoo and which was the body wash. You searched through the cabinet for a new toothbrush and your toothpaste. As the shower ran, you went into your room, going through your closet for a towel and a change of clothes — _his_ clothes that somehow found their way into your moving boxes. You set the clothes and towel on the sink countertop and sat down in front of him, legs tucked underneath you. The bathroom floor was cold. Your whole apartment felt cold.

You lightly patted his cheek. “Hey, you think you can do this alone?” You said.

He leaned into your hand, opening his eyes and staring down at you. “It would have been two years today.” His words were slurred and came out as a quiet whine but no one could miss the ache behind his words. “Two years.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“Two years if we had just…” He trailed off. He was drunk but he could see the sympathy, the _pity_ , in your eyes and it left an even more bitter taste in his mouth. “If we had just stuck it through.”

He hated himself more than he could express right now. He was _pathetic_. It had been half a year and he should have moved on by now. You did. But you were always somehow at the back of his mind. Not even volleyball could serve as a good enough distraction. He saw you everywhere and the more he suppressed it, the stronger it came back. But if he could feel your gentle touches again, even in a situation like this, he would gladly do this night the same again.

You pulled your hand away and stood up. You exhaled and took his hand in yours limply. “Come on, Sakusa.” 

He flinched. “Don’t call me that.”

“You don’t expect me to call you —“

“ _Please_.” He held your hand in both of his, pressing your hand to his firm chest. “I don’t want you to know me as Sakusa.”

You stood there for a moment, scrutinizing him. Maybe if this had happened on a different day, an anger would have flared up in you. The nerve of him. The nerve of him to ask you to call him by his nickname, or even his first name, when he told you not to that very day. That it was all too much. That _you_ were too much. But seeing him cling to you, seeing him sit on your toilet seat with a death grip on your hand, you couldn’t help but cave. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was a tiny sliver of affection you had for him left, or maybe you just knew if you called him what he wanted you to call him, he would be the most cooperative, or maybe it was all three but the words left your mouth. It felt so foreign yet so natural all at the same time. “Omi,” You said, your voice on the verge of cracking. “Please.”

As he showered, you made your way into the kitchen. You leaned forward on the counter top, your elbows propped up as you rested your cheeks in your hands. You glanced out the sliding glass doors, which led to the balcony, overlooking the city of Tokyo. And you wondered exactly how you found yourself in this situation. You of all the people in Tokyo. You of all the people Sakusa knew in Tokyo. And you wondered how exactly _Sakusa_ found himself in this situation. You patted your pant pockets for your phone before remembering you left it in your jacket. 

Seeing your jacket hung up next to Sakusa’s was an odd sight to see. How large his jacket was next to yours, so long, the ends of it grazed the top of the shelf beneath it. It made you feel all twisted inside. This whole night did. 

You turned on your phone, tapping on the Messages app, searching for Miya Atsumu in the contact list. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to any of the MSBY Black Jackals. You were friends with them at one point when you were dating Sakusa. But they were _his_ friends, so when he left, so did the prospects of deepening any friendship you had with them. You didn’t mind. You wouldn’t have met any of them had it not been for Sakusa anyways. You were never very involved in volleyball, not even with growing up in a city with as many powerhouse schools as Tokyo but then again, you grew up in the suburbs on the outskirts of the city. 

You sent him a quick message before setting your phone on the counter. While awaiting an answer from the famous setter, you filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, the gas clicking as you twisted the knob to draw out a fire. Opening a cabinet, you went on your toes to retrieve two mugs and two coasters. You placed them on the counter, mug on top of coaster. 

You did the same routine of stretching upwards to get two bags of tea, one decaf and one not. Just as the edge of the second tea bag came in contact with your fingertips, the plastic rustling in the box, a ping came from your phone.

You opened the wrapping, placing the tea bags in the mugs. You picked up your phone and leaned against the counter as you read and responded to Atsumu’s texts. 

* * *

**03:13 - y/l/n y/n |** hey, it’s y/n. sorry to text you so late and so out of the blue but you didn’t happen to see sakusa tonight, did you?

**03:21 - miya atsumu |** yeah, i did actually. the team went out for drinks. we all left before he did though. why? what’s up?

**03:22 - y/l/n y/n |** i, uh, got a call from one of the customers at the bar on his phone. he’s pretty wasted. he’s at my apartment right now.

**03:22 - miya atsumu |** oh shit. i can come pick him up.

**03:23 - y/l/n y/n |** it’s fine. it’s already late anyways. just wanted to let you know and get some answers.

**03:23 - miya atsumu |** you sure? he might say some,, stuff. he’s been a bit out of it recently, esp with the timing and all. 

**03:23 - y/l/n y/n |** yeah, i’m over it, you know. ancient history and all. 

**03:24 - miya atsumu |** alright, let me know if you need anything. oh, and tell kuroo i said hi.

**03:24 - y/l/n y/n |** will do

* * *

_Ancient history,_ you thought. Until tonight, it _did_ feel like ancient history but now it felt like some sort of weird limbo. Like the past and present were one. And you didn’t like it. You were kids when you first started dating. Fresh out of college. And now you’ve been out of college for a couple of years, long enough to have snagged a good job at a large enough corporation to live in a Shibuya apartment and Sakusa to be an Olympic athlete. So how did you get to this point again?

Right before the kettle started screeching, you turned off the stove and poured water into both mugs. You placed the kettle back on the stove and brought the mugs over to the small birchwood dining table. Letting the tea seep further, you went to retrieve the jar of sugar, a bottle of honey and two spoons. Pouring honey in yours and just a bit of sugar into his, you didn’t think much of the fact that you still remembered how he took his tea. Just the tiniest bit of sugar for the tea to not be bitter but also not quite sweet.

You didn’t notice Sakusa enter the space as you nursed your cup of tea, both hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, and gazing through the glass doors. City lights dotted your view, bringing light to the otherwise dark landscape.

He was still drunk but the cold water from the shower made him feel more alive and exhilarated. More conscious. But he was sure, even completely blitzed, he wouldn’t help but stare at you. He always forgot just exactly how pretty you were till you were right in front of him. Especially like this, like you were in your own little world, dazed and admiring all the small things in life, and couldn’t be bothered with anything else. He had a picture of you, just like this, as his screensaver once.

When you noticed him, you got up from your seat and poured your remaining tea down the drain. “Drink some tea.” You jutted your head to the sole mug sitting on the table. “It’ll make you feel better. I’m going to shower. You’ll be okay on your own?”

He just stared at you. He wanted to say he didn’t want you to leave and to sit down across from him and watch the sun rise with him but no sound came out and he just nodded. 

He also wanted to say how he noticed you swapped out your old earrings for new ones. You stopped wearing the ones he bought you, the gold butterfly earrings he bought you for your one year anniversary. And now they’ve been replaced with pearl earrings, the rim covered in gold. 

As you took your leave, he stared at the apartment, a new corner catching his eye every time. Your place wasn’t dust free but it felt and looked homier and cozier than the apartment you shared. There was more clutter but it was tidy. And you had paper decorations hanging from the ceiling and trinkets everywhere. You always mentioned how you wanted something like this but Sakusa always dismissed it, saying it collected too much dust. Looking back, you must be glad he didn’t allow you to because the day after you broke up, it must have been easier to pack everything up and leave. He told you that you felt suffocating but that was the only thing he felt when he was left with a half empty apartment and your absence.

There was a click from the bedroom door as you slipped through it, dressed in a blue mist sweatshirt and grey shorts. You set your hands on his shoulders. “Let’s do your skincare.” You said softly. 

He turned his head to look up at you, nodding. As he followed you back to the bathroom, he couldn’t help but notice that you were matching. His gray hoodie and your gray shorts. You never matched when you were dating. 

Once again, you set him down on the toilet seat and knelt down in front of him. “Did you wash your face?” 

“Yeah.” He said, voice still raspy. “It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.” He was referencing how in his scan of the apartment, the only thing that really seemed to be the same was your toiletries. 

There was a bite to that sentence. You felt a sheer embarrassment with how fast you moved on, your eyes shifting uncomfortably. It wasn’t that you weren’t hurt by the break up — you were devastated — but when it hurt, it hit you all at once and when you recovered from that, there was nothing else to feel from it. You used up all the pain in one go. 

Brushing off his comment, you started the skincare. His skin was sensitive, as was yours, but his was so sensitive that a day or two without his skincare could leave him in break outs. 

As you slathered the serum onto his cheek, his voice came out softer. More vulnerable without the aggression of the comment before. “You cut your hair.”

In an impulse move, you cupped the ends of your hair. They touched your shoulders now. In true heartbreak fashion, you chopped off eight inches of your waist-length locks and well, you liked it better this way. It felt lighter. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I needed a change.” _A change from you. To remind me that I’m not tethered to you and had a life of my own._

He stared at the floor, contemplatively. You weren’t sure if he caught the meaning of it but quite frankly, you could care less. _He_ broke up with _you_.

“I’m sorry.” He said, strained.

“We all are.” You said. 

As you stood up to put the cap back on the moisturizer, Sakusa lunged forward, enveloping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your stomach. 

“Sak—“ You cut yourself off. “Omi?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His cries were muffled. “I told you that I was better off without you, better off alone, but I’m not. I need you. Please, y/n.” You swallowed thickly. _Better off alone_. The words still stung. You can’t forget the venom in his eyes when he said that to you. Before tonight, those were his last words to you. He started stumbling over his own words, spilling out everything he’s ever wanted to say since he saw you walk out that door. “I miss you so much.”

Hesitantly, you rested your arms that were suspended in air, one hand on his crown and one hand resting between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back. The words were on the tip of your tongue: _I miss you too._ It would be so easy to say them, but you swallowed it up and buried it as deep as you could. So you said simply, “I know.”

The problem was you did miss Sakusa sometimes. You missed coming home every night to a clean apartment when you were too drained from work to clean it yourself. You missed having someone take care and coddle you the way Sakusa did when you were sick. You missed his warm touches and the way he would lean into you, exhausted after a match. And you even missed the late airport drives when you would pick him up when he had an away game. It’s not like these were things exclusive to Sakusa only, it’s just that it wasn’t the same with anyone else.

Eventually you pried Sakusa’s arms off. You cupped his warm face in your hands. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?” You murmured. 

He sleepily nodded, his renewed energy from earlier all drained from the crying. 

You guided him back to the living room. You thanked the sales person for convincing you to buy a pull out sofa. You laid Sakusa down, his head resting on one of the arm rests, and retreated back to your room to bring out a pillow and thick wool blanket. 

You laid the blanket on him before sitting criss cross on the floor, gently placing the pillow beneath his head. He had already drifted off to sleep when you returned but to your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it in his. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, breathing in the lavender pillow spray that was spritzed on the pillow. 

He hummed and held your hands close. “Your hair always did smell like lavender.” He drowsily opened his eyes and for the first time that night, you looked into his shining chocolatey brown eyes. And it burned. You had been avoiding it all night because you knew the moment you did, you would fall into a rabbit hole, the same one you were stuck in before. And here you were, falling. He looked at you the way he used to, when you used to press your cold feet onto his calves, bursting into a gaggle of giggles as he rolled over and pinned you, feigning annoyance, but there was something deeper to it. There was a murkiness that wasn’t there before and it reminded you that things would never be the same again. 

“Omi,” you warned softly, barely above a whisper.

Still, he reached out and took a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Are you happy?” He said, his voice strained. He hated the resignation in your voice.

You looked down at the floor, following the wood grain of the birchwood. If someone else had asked you these questions, you would be able to answer them willingly lightning quick. But for some reason, Sakusa’s presence made your throat swollen, the words trapped in your throat, and made you question things that you knew. 

“We were just a pipe dream, Omi.” You said, dismissively. 

“I don’t want us to be one. I don’t want us to be like this.” His voice lowered, full of nasal. “You weren’t a mistake.”

That wasn’t what he told you six months ago. 

You looked away from and willed yourself to keep it together. “You don’t mean that.” You played with the hem of your socks. 

“But I do.” His voice came out slurred. “ _I love you._ ”

And he says it like he means it. And maybe you were naive enough or dumb enough -- like you were to stick around for so long, because in the span of your year and a half relationship, he never once said it -- but you still wish he meant it. 

You stare at him, taking in his disheveled hair and the red flush on his cheeks and the way he holds himself so limply, like he didn’t have enough energy to move, like it ached all over. You bit hard on the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should have seen this coming. Maybe you should have seen that only Sakusa would say something that heavy and with so much meaning only when he was at rock bottom. When he was desperate enough. You felt like he reached out into your chest, wrapping his fingers around your heart and squeezed it. 

“y/n?” He said ever so gently. 

He saw this look on your face many times before, at the end of your relationship. And it was almost deceitful how sincere he looked. How his eyes were watery and stunned at seeing the hurt on your face, as if he didn’t cause it. And you hated it because it reminded you of what he was like before he turned cold and snappy. Back when he used to leave kisses behind your ears and roll up your sleeves for you when you did the dishes.

You swallowed thickly, finally moving after recovering from the shock. With your free hand, you carded your hand through his head of waves. How long has it been since you’ve felt his hair through your fingers? 

“It’s late, Omi.” You whispered. 

He held your hand closer to his chest, squeezing your hand. He gently kissed each of your knuckles.

As his breathing steadied into deep and slow breaths, you ran your index finger along Sakusa’s face, tracing the bridge of his nose and eyes and lingering on his birth marks, pressing each one gently. You always used to tease him and say that his birthmark looked like a colon and he would scowl but he would never say you were wrong. 

In the grand scheme of things, six months was a small stint, nothing important, just a blimp, but to you, it was a turning point. You couldn’t say with confidence that you from half a year ago would recognize you from now and you were glad to say that. Prideful almost. 

_So snap out of it_ . _You’re better than this. You know you are._

Eventually, you slipped your hand out of his grasp, feeling the lingering of something painful in your chest. Right as you did, you heard your phone buzz from somewhere in the apartment. 

All the blood in your body rushed to your legs as you got up. Fighting through the tingly sensation, you found your phone on a side table. Your screen lit up with a familiar name, one that didn’t fill you with dread within. Quite the opposite, actually. For a moment there, you forgot you texted him previously in the night before you left to pick up Sakusa.

Kuroo wasn’t planned. You were friends in college -- classmates; both business majors -- long before you met Sakusa. But you had drifted after his graduation, him being a year ahead, what with Kuroo going to California for his masters and you with a year of college left. When you did graduate, you stayed in Japan, going straight to the workforce. And when he came back a month after you broke up with Sakusa, it happened all so fast. 

But you felt loved with Kuroo. Loved without feeling like you were begging for it. 

You bit your lip, turning your phone in your hand. You walked to the balcony, the door sliding shut behind you. The cold air bit at your bare skin. You bundled yourself in a blanket that was draped on one of the rattan chairs you put out on the balcony before sitting in it yourself. The sleek feel of the fabric was cool to the touch.

You pulled your legs up, sitting criss crossed and fumbled with your phone, calling Kuroo. Your phone didn’t ring for long before he picked up.

“Hello?” You said, slightly breathless. 

You heard the rumble of voices in the background of Kuroo’s end growing distant before you heard someone gleefully shouting and Kuroo responding. A moment passed before he spoke again, in a much quieter place. “Hey babe. Why are you still awake? Is everything okay? It’s pretty late in Japan right now.”

“Yeah, I just-” your voice trailed off before finding its purpose again. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He chuckled. “You miss me that much, huh?”

Even if he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “Don’t get your head all inflated.” You played with a loose thread, rubbing it between your thumb and index finger. You weren’t scared per se of how Kuroo would react when you told him about Sakusa -- you’ve always been transparent with each other, past with Sakusa included -- but this whole night filled you with a hesitation that extended even to Kuroo. “How’s Berkley?”

“It feels good to be back. I’m out with a few of my Haas buddies. They’ve all been asking about you.”

“Oh?” The corner of your mouth tugged upwards.

“Oh, who has an inflated head now?” He teased.

You smiled to yourself, feeling the edge of the night being taken off. “Uh, something _interesting_ happened tonight.” You let yourself pause, knowing Kuroo would appreciate the theatrics. “Sakusa is here tonight.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” You could hear the incredibility in Kuroo’s voice. “Of the MSBY Jackals?”

“The one and only. He’s crashing on our couch. The team went out for drinks but Sakusa stayed behind and well, this guy at the bar he was at called me. I didn’t know he still had my number in his phone. He’s wasted and when I mean wasted, I mean _wasted_. So, fair warning,” you said.

“Fair warning?” Kuroo smirked, more intrigued than upset.

“I’m not sure what he did before I picked him up so you may or may not have a PR day on your hands. Oh and Miya Atsumu said hi.”

“You’re kidding.” Kuroo let out a whine, one where you knew if you were with him right now he would be hunched over with his arms around you, muttering complaints into your neck. “Uni did not prepare me for this.”

“I still stand by the fact that I should have gotten a higher mark than you on that econ paper.”

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Lies.” Kuroo’s laugh rang through the phone, filling you with warmth throughout. You laid back in your chair, slumping down. A breeze came through, sending your hair flying back from your face, and you pulled the blanket around you tighter. Your voice lost its brashness, growing softer. “Come home soon, okay?”

And so did Kuroo’s voice. “When this conference is done, I’ll hop on the first plane back to Japan. Promise. This’ll be the last one for a while. I miss you too much to go on another one so soon.” 

“I’ll greet you at the airport.” You teased. “Sign and all. ‘Welcome back from rehab.’”

“You better.” A sigh came from his throat. “You should go to sleep. You’re meeting Hideo for brunch tomorrow, right? We can facetime later tonight, your time. I wanna see you again.”

“Okay. Stay safe. Don’t stay out too late and don’t drink too much.” You say.

“Yes, _mom._ ” You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile before you heard Kuroo’s voice again. “Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

_I know._ Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, rubbing your arms, trying to overcome the sudden wave of tension. You found yourself looking back into the living room, where a sleeping Sakusa laid. That same stinging pain came back in your chest. “I love you too.”

“I guess you’re the one good thing that came out of uni, huh?” Kuroo said, his voice so low and dreamy it almost felt like he was saying it to himself rather than to you.

“Yeah.” You struggled the word out, tracing the speaker of your phone.

“Goodnight y/n.”

“Goodnight Tetsu.”

* * *

**05:18 - kuroo tetsuro |** goodnight loser who got a 89 on that econ paper <3

**05:19 - y/l/n y/n |** goodnight loser who still had a lower semester grade <3

**05:19 - kuroo tetsuro** | don’t be bitter

* * *

You hugged yourself, your hands resting on the back of your neck. You tilted your head, looking at the bottom of the grate balcony a few floors above you. You sighed, a puff of cloud leaving your mouth. 

Was this the right thing to do?

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is one of my favorite pieces i've written. i will admit though that i like the beginning much more than the ending solely bc of flow but what else can you do yk
> 
> also i just love using kuroo as a plot device. but will i ever write a long, fleshed out fic for him? probably not.
> 
> stay safe y'all, there's still a pandemic going on and make sure to vote if you live in the us! <3


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